


Daemon and the Ghostly Ride

by Sookiestark



Series: Ghost Stories of Westeros [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ghost Stories, Ghosts, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 05:12:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12474252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sookiestark/pseuds/Sookiestark
Summary: Daemon Targaryen decides to go for a horse ride with a beautiful woman on a cold dark foggy night.Eleven Ghost Stories in Eleven days for Halloween 2017





	Daemon and the Ghostly Ride

**Author's Note:**

> So, the idea is eleven ghost stories in eleven days (All in Westeros) --- I am looking for ideas or at least characters.. I have most of them already but any suggestions will be considered. 
> 
> Let's see if I can do this-- please have paitience with me-- I don't usually write a story a day- Fingers crossed...

Daemon Targaryen, Prince of King’s Landing, seated himself on the lower steps to Red Keep. It was a dark night. The air had turned chilly and had created a mist that even the torches of the Red Keep could barely break. It was an eerie night, the kind of night that would have been perfect to tell ghost stories when he was a child. 

He had drank a great deal of Pentoshi brandy tonight and hadn’t eaten much, but the crisp air and the dark night called to him. He had Dark Sister by his side. There could be no danger mortal man could do to him. He loved the night and the excitement that it held for him.

He had just left Rhaenrya’s chambers. The smell of her perfume and the scent of her sex was all over his face and hands. He had almost taken her tonight. It had been too much and when she had teased him by begging, pleading with him to bed her, as she writhed against his fingers. He almost had. But he knew she was teasing. She still had her heart set on Ser Criston Cole. Daemon wanted her to want him when he took her to bed and if he bedded her too soon or if she was unwilling, he would lose his most powerful ally in King’s Landing.

So, Daemon had practiced paitence and restraint when he was with his neice. These were skills that didn’t come easy to him. Right now, Daemon felt like he needed a brothel and a good fight to clear his head. 

Absently, he finished an apple he had taken from her room when he had kissed good night and sweet dreams. 

The mist was heavy and started to make Daemon slightly unsettled. He was not a man who was unsettled, and so he did not like the feeling. It started to get very cold, and he thought about going back up the stairs to have a servant fetch a cloak for him. Perhaps, the weather was turning. He looked back up the stairs and saw how the mist had grown thick around the stairs, shrouding everything in an unearthly quality. He started to think he might call it an early night, rather than go out in the chill. As Daemon stood to head back into the Keep, he brushed the dirt from his clothes when he heard the sound of the hooves on the stone.

He peered into the darkness waiting to see the horse and its rider. Who would go riding alone in the darkness in all this mist? A madman or a fool? Either one interested Daemon. He gripped the pommel of the sword lightly. After all, there was no danger yet. But, curiosity and a sense of danger was two of the things would lead Daemon to his untimely demise, or at least that was what his mother had said.

Out of the damned mist, came a slender figure in a heavy black cloak and black skirts riding on the most beautiful sand steed he had seen. It had bells in his mane and braids in its tail. Clearly, it was a young woman who was riding this beast. Daemon’s interest was heightened. He noticed she did not sit side saddle but sat astride, as if she was not a lady at all, but a warrior woman of old.

“Who goes there on such a night like this?” He said it lightly, teasing. Whether this creature be a witch, or a demon, or a Child of the Forest, she was lovely and her horse matched her in grace.

She spoke back softly, but playfully. “Speak softly, good ser. It is just a girl on a quick ride to Fleabottom and back.”

“Why must we whisper, my lady?”

“We don’t want the guards to hear us and send me back to my room.”

Daemon looked up into the girl's face. She was lovely, maybe the most beautiful girl he had ever met. It reminded him a bit of Rhaenys, his cousin. She had a small nose and wide eyes, full of intelligence and mischief. Her lips were full and longed to be kissed, red from the adventure and her activity. Her eyes were purple, deep purple, reflecting the moonlight. 

He had never noticed this girl before and wondered if she was a Velaryon cousin. Perhaps little Laena, though she couldn’t be more than ten. How could he have not been introduced to such a beautiful creature? He wondered if she had been sent to be one of Rhaenyra’s new attendants. Perhaps, his neice had chosen to keep the girl from him. Could it be that she was starting to feel things for him? Maybe, his little dragon princess had started to stir from the flames he stirred in her. Perhaps, she was ready to toss the milk sop Ser Cole aside and her girlish dreams and bed him. 

“Do you stay in the Red Keep? With the Princess?”

“Aye, I stay in the Red Keep, unless I sneak out to flirt with dangerous men and ride my horse down to Fleabottom and have a few drinks.”

He laughed. Perhaps he would not have to go to a brothel tonight. She seemed a willing lass. 

“The horse is lovely. Where did you get such a fine beast?”

“Lord Manderly sent it to me all the way from Dorne. He is a wonderful man, even if he is the age of my father or grandfather. “

“Is he your betrothed?”

She leaned down to look at him, all her silver hair falling loose from her hood.

“My Lord, would you like to talk about my upcoming nuptials or would you rather climb up and ride with me to Fleabottom where we can get better acquainted over some wine? The night is young, ser. I mean to do some damage, before they send me to White Harbor.”

Daemon could see down the front of her dress and her ample breast held tightly in her corset. Each breath she took, the material seemed to strain against her and he wondered how her breast might feel unbound above him, as he took her beneath. He licked his lips and felt his cock stir.

“My lady, I am always up for some mischief, especially with a beautiful woman.”

He climbed upon the horse, behind her in one cat- like movement and away they flew, down the dark alleys of King’s Landing. 

Daemon was quite an accomplished rider. Like everything he did, he excelled at the natural physicality and the endurance and of course, the danger. He heard her laugh as the horse began to canter in the mist. He pulled her close to him, placing one arm around her waist and one on her thigh. He could feel the muscles and endurance of the magnificence of the great black beast beneath them. He felt his heart race wildly, like the steps of the horse against the stones. Soon he was laughing and yelling wildly with her, as the horse tore through the night

Faster and faster, they galloped, turning left and right with only seconds to spare in the darkness and in the fog. She was an excellent horsewoman and a lovely girl, but careening through the tiny streets of Flea Bottom, at breakneck speeds, might be too much even for him. After all, there were still people about, drunks, merchants, whores, vagabonds. All it would take is one fool to walk in front of them or spook the horse and they would smash their heads on the stones below. His dreams of being more would seep out like his brains on the street.

The horse seemed to go faster and faster, until the streets and houses seemed to blur. Daemon could not even tell where he was and he knew all of King’s Landing.

The girl was laughing with wild abandon. He grabbed her breast and smelled her hair which smelled like flowers and horses and faintly of smoke.

“Stop, my lady.. So.. we can enjoy each other's company. I see a tavern I know. Stop.”

He would never know how the horse stopped so quickly. He looked at her. Though they had been riding at a hard gallop through the streets, her face had only the smallest glow upon her cheeks. She seemed sad to dismount the horse and end the ride, but he had been patient. All night he had been patient, and now he wanted his satisfaction. Daemon would wager he could rent a room in the tavern and be in the girl’s skirts in less than a quarter of an hour and he was a betting man. 

He dismounted from the horse and held up his hand to the girl to help her down. But she seemed distracted by a small intersection where three roads met in the distance. She spoke more to herself than to him, “I know where we are…”

“Come, my lady. You promised me a drink and your company for a ride. I have given you a ride. Now, give me my due.”

The horse seemed slightly agitated and moved from leg to leg in the mist. The mist had gotten so thick he could no longer see the horses legs. 

The light from the tavern seemed warm and inviting. The noises of drunk men called to him, as did the wine within, but the girl did not take his hand to dismount. 

She looked at him, “Thank you, ser for the ride, but I must away.”

“No,” he said, as she rode toward the intersection. Daemon was not a boy to be toyed with by some wench who could ride a horse. Frustrated, he felt like pulling Dark Sister and forcing her off that damned horse. “My lady, I do not even know your name, Tell me your name and I will find you on the morrow. “

She laughed lightly, as she cantered toward the intersection calling out to him, “Viserra Targaryen....”

He looked up and saw her reach her destination. When she reached the intersection, the horse and rider disappeared completely, and a cold chill made the hairs on his neck stand up. His Aunt Viserra had died before he was born, over thirty five years ago, in a horse riding accident. 

It was a tale he loved to share to his children and his stepchildren, the cold and misty night when the ghost of Viserra had taken him for a ride through Fleabottom.

**Author's Note:**

> So-- this is obviously a version of the Vanishing Hitchhiker.. Up next--Robb Stark? Tommen? Joanna Lannister?


End file.
